Make You My Very Own
by Riding A Tiger In Outer Space
Summary: Moriarty/Moran.  PWP.  That time in bed with all the cigarettes.


Is this how everyone feels after writing smut for the first time? Fic under the cut.

So it has happened. My desire for there to be more Moriarty/Moran porny fanfic has resulted in me actually sitting down and writing it myself. I feel ridiculous, and you probably will too once you've read this. I apologize ahead of time. There is no plot.

Title: To Make You My Very Own

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran (BBC Sherlock. Make up your own Moran time!)

Notes/Warnings: PWP, abuse of italics, tiger print, chain smoking, drinks, ultra-lounge, cursing, blowjobs, barebacking, a bit of burning, briefly implied gun play, so watch out if any of this displeases you.

ALSO, I know nothing about cigarettes. I'm under the impression it takes 4 – 10 minutes to go through one. Which should set up a decent time frame for how long certain things…last. _

References: I reference two songs, the first being "Teach Me Tiger". Jim references the lyrics twice. The title is also pulled from the song. One of my former professors introduced me to ultra-lounge. So this is partially his fault.

I apologize for spelling or grammatical errors. I apologize for poorly written porn. I apologize for thinking I am hilarious when really my sense of humor is super lame. Forgive me, but

I REGRET NOTHING.

You've been warned.

* * *

><p>Outside the door, the needle softly touches down on a record.<p>

"Hi, tiger," Jim said breathily from the doorway, sounding nothing like April Stevens. He loosely grasped a martini in his left hand, swirling it so lazily that it threatened to spill on the carpet. His tie was undone and the top three buttons of his oxford open, jacket nowhere to be seen. His braces were up but his trousers were unbuttoned. No, his voice did not have the soft sex appeal of April Stevens. Nevertheless, Sebastian found himself praying that Jim would just come into the room already.

"Are you going to ask me in?" Jim arched one perfect eyebrow and leant more heavily on the threshold. "Or will I just have to stand here and take care of myself?" For punctuation, he slowly slid his free hand down the back of his trousers, "Mm, but it feels nothing like you."

The option of a free show was alluring, but Sebastian caved and commanded, "Stop that."

Jim's eyes widened in fake(?) shock, which quickly shifted to pure delight and a wicked grin, "Yes, sir," he purred, "But, show me what to do."

Seb abandoned the whiskey, tossed aside his volume of Chekhov's short stories and stood, but made sure to walk towards the door with slow, measured movements. No need to let Jim know how much he wanted to race across the room and tear his clothes off. Jim already knew. He always knew. Damn tease.

"This one's for you," Jim slurred when Seb was closer, sloshing martini in his direction, "I had mine while I was getting ready."

Seb chuckled, "I see you took great pains in that process."

"Very."

Seb took the drink and drained it, tossing the glass to the same corner as the Chekhov before he seized Jim by the braces and kissed him, all teeth and tongue and force. Jim kept his hands to himself and instead shifted to remove his shirt, but Seb wrenched his hands away.

"Not so fast, now," he growled, stepping back and drinking in how perfectly debauched Jim looked, flushed and mussed. For his eyes only. Upon closer observation he noted that the tie and braces were a black on black tiger print. Subtle. Nice touch. They had to go.

Sebastian returned to his bed, shucking his trousers and shirt along the way, and stretched out in his boxers on the pillows with his arms behind his head. Jim remained at the door, waiting for further instruction. Seb reached over to the nightstand to grab a lighter and cigarette, which he left unlit for the moment, and the drink he had left behind earlier.

"In front," Seb said after a sip of whiskey, and Jim moved to stand at the foot of the bed. Another sip, "Strip."

After locking eyes for an intense few seconds, Jim averted his gaze and became entirely absorbed in removing each article of clothing with painstaking care. It wasn't so much watching a striptease as it was watching a nightly routine in slow motion, set to 1950s lounge music. The eroticism was reduced but was replaced by a keen sense of anticipation and impatience. Seb doubted that throwing money would help.

The tie and braces went first, which he placed behind him on the dresser; then each cuff link, which seemed to take forever to undo. And then, as if he hadn't taken enough time on his cuff links alone, he fucking folded his trousers and shirt after he removed them. He made quick work of his black boxer briefs and leaned back on the dresser with a smug smirk and returned his stare to Sebastian, who finished his whiskey in a rush and threw the glass across the room (it seemed that this was becoming a habit).

Again, Jim awaited orders. Seb placed his cigarette between his lips and tossed the lighter to Jim, "C'mere and light me up."

Without breaking eye contact, Jim glided around the foot board to join Seb on the mattress and slunk on all fours over Seb's legs until he straddled his lap. Hands on Seb's shoulders, Jim pushed forward until they were chest to chest, and bit along his jaw and his lips. Seb groaned when Jim cleverly maneuvered his tongue into his mouth and took the cigarette between his own lips without laying a hand on it.

"What a talented mouth you have."

Jim grinned ear to ear as he lit the cigarette and took a drag before returning it to Seb's mouth, sure to press a finger in just a tad too far for it to have been an accident. Taking the compliment as his next order, Jim slid back down and bit at Seb's collarbones and licked down his chest, nuzzling at his navel briefly before –

"Are you?" Sebastian breathed.

And yes. Jim was removing Seb's boxers with his fucking teeth. Without batting an eye, staring up at Seb as he worked the article with very little difficulty all the way down his legs. As if he had practiced. Sebastian was so transfixed that he barely noticed his cigarette burn down until it scorched his fingers.

"Christ, Jim," he reached for another cigarette and managed to light it before Jim had his mouth around his cock, "Fuck."

Tempting as it was to lounge and smoke while his boss deep throated him, Sebastian had other things in mind, "Fuck, you little slut, why don't you put your sweet ass where your mouth is," he gritted before realizing how ridiculous he sounded. Jim apparently agreed and began to laugh, Seb's cock still lodged in his throat. The vibrations felt so damn spectacular and Seb knew Jim was doing it on purpose, and he swore he almost went cross-eyed as he tried to pull himself together.

"Stop that!" he ordered and yanked Jim away by his hair.

Jim moaned at the pain and surged against Sebastian, almost burning himself on the cigarette as he shoved his tongue into Seb's mouth. It was almost finished anyway, so Seb put it out and returned to hungrily kissing Jim. He wrapped a hand around Jim's cock and stroked hard, eliciting more fantastically loud noises. Jim pushed into his palm and eventually Seb stopped stroking altogether just to feel Jim continue to fuck his hand. But again, he would not allow things to be over so soon. He removed his hand and reached for a third cigarette, allowing Jim to light it for him again.

Sebastian thoughtfully fondled Jim's thigh for a few moments before sliding his hand around to the cleft of Jim's ass where he was surprised to find that he was already stretched.

Jim's impish smile returned, "I told you I took great pains getting ready."

Seb's mouth went dry at the thought of Jim pressing his fingers into himself, or maybe even fucking himself with a dildo while he sipped a martini. While Sebastian was temporarily distracted by the many possibilities running through his mind, Jim somehow produced lubricant out of thin air and coated Seb with it before beginning to lower himself on.

Jim tossed his head back with his jaw slack and his eyes screwed shut, theatrically moaning, "Oh yes, Seb, nothing feels quite like you." By the time Jim had fully lowered himself inch by painstaking inch, Sebastian needed a fourth cigarette, but fumbled with the lighter five times because Jim was rocking ever so slightly and squeezing.

"Fuck," he sighed with a cloud of smoke. Jim only smiled and ran his hands all over Seb's chest and arms, continuing to just barely move for what felt like an eternity. It was driving Seb insane. The fourth cigarette seemed to burn down faster than the previous three, and when it was finished Seb grabbed Jim by the hips and rolled them over so that Jim was on his back, looking pleased with himself. Sebastian lit a fifth cigarette before repositioning himself, pushing Jim's legs as far forward as they would go and burying himself inside again, bent on wiping that smug look off Jim's face.

He started slow, teasing back. He took a drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke into Jim's open mouth while kissing him, then placed the cigarette into Jim's mouth so he could return the favor. Sebastian remained at that steady pace as they shared the cigarette back and forth, Jim beginning to unravel and look a little desperate. When the fifth cigarette was done, Seb pulled out. Jim groaned at the loss, frustrated and fighting the urge to jerk himself off.

"Get up," Sebastian commanded, lighting a sixth cigarette. Jim scowled at him, but obeyed. Seb thought for a moment, enjoying the mix of murderous rage and arousal on Jim's face. Finally, "Bottom of the mattress. On your knees. Hands on the foot board. Eyes forward. Keep your eyes on the mirror."

Jim assumed the ordered position and Sebastian sidled up behind him, grabbed his hips and pushed back inside of the tight heat, and from that there was no stopping. He thrust hard and fast and only became rougher as he got close. Jim was screaming now, all signs of his grin gone, struggling to keep his eyes open to focus on watching Sebastian and himself in the mirror, both red in the face and straining. Sebastian hazarded a glance at the mirror and was immediately blindsided by his orgasm. He gripped the foot board so he wouldn't fall on Jim as he came inside of him, but both of their arms were shaking so much that they ended up collapsing anyway.

When he pulled himself together, Jim had taken his cigarette for himself and glared at Sebastian expectantly. Seb gladly pushed Jim onto his back and began to stroke and suck at his still hard cock. Jim's hand wound into the hair at the back of his neck and he knew he was so close. It would be just another moment and then –

"AHHHH! WHAT THE FUCK YOU LITTLE PRICK?" Seb yowled when Jim pushed the still lit cigarette into his shoulder.

"Sebastian!" Jim moaned, sounding giddy as he came on Seb's shocked and infuriated face. He would have laughed, but there wasn't enough breath in him.

"You little shit!" Sebastian hollered, too distracted by the searing pain to care about the cum dripping down his cheek and off the tip of his nose.

Jim did laugh now, curling up in a ball with delight, "Oh, darling, don't be so serious! Really! You'll kill me with laughter!"

When Seb didn't respond, Jim unfolded himself and sat up to look more closely at him. He swiped a thumb over Seb's cheek and licked away his own cum. He kissed and licked at Seb's face and eventually concluded, "I was just trying to make a point. Don't be so wounded."

Seb gave in and kissed back a few times before asking, "And what point is that?"

Jim's devilish smile returned, "Well, two points, really. One, to show you that you would like it."

Sebastian wanted to disagree with this argument, but found that he was unable to. Jim brushed a finger over the burn and Seb hissed, pulling Jim down for a deeper kiss.

"And," Jim said into Seb's mouth, "I wanted to punish you."

"What for?"

Jim backed away glowered, "I've told you not to smoke in bed before."

"You told me not to smoke in your bed."

Jim scoffed, "What's your point? Everything in this flat is mine, you included. So no smoking in bed. Or anywhere near the tapestries in the hallway."

"I guess you'll have to save your burning experiments for the kitchen table then."

Jim yawned, "Tomorrow. I'll set you ablaze and use the fire to cook bacon."

With that, he dragged himself up to the pillows and collapsed, asleep instantly. Seb disposed of the cigarette butts and retrieved a warm cloth to clean himself and Jim before he left the room to examine and clean the burn on his shoulder. Hitting and scratching was standard fare when bedding Moriarty (and there was that one time with the gun), but Seb was still pretty sure he would never smoke in bed again. Still, he hoped it would scar nicely; one for the collection. He would return the favor some other time.


End file.
